Ramen Nights
by frustratedstudent
Summary: Wednesday nights at the Thenardier siblings' apartment get a new twist when there's delightfully geeky company involved, Courfeyrac and Azelma want to take things up a notch, and Enjolras wonders how he got involved in the middle of it all.


_A/N: Another bit from the world of "Don't Mess With the Surgeon." Again, outside of the hospital but this time from Enjolras' POV. _

**Ramen Nights**

"When you say you're going to work overtime again tonight, do you mean here in the city hall, or at the Thenardiers' apartment?"

The jovial yet guilty laugh that leaves Courfeyrac's lips is enough to have Enjolras narrowing his eyes disapprovingly. "You like that place too as much as the rest of us," Courfeyrac quips as he passes a folder to his friend. "You have to admit that it is conducive for work."

Enjolras shakes his head at the pile of documents in his hands. It is about time that this case file has returned to his desk, given that they have two more days before their next big hearing. Although he is certain that they will win this case versus a recalcitrant tycoon notorious for his quashing of labor unions in his corporations, he is still not one to leave any loopholes open for attack. "For the social aspect of it perhaps, but certainly not for research," Enjolras points out.

"If the research is about health, or education, or engineering, it certainly is conducive!" Courfeyrac says. "Or are you just learning not to bring work home?"

Enjolras gives his friend a withering look, which only prompts another peal of laughter from Courfeyrac before he makes his timely exit from the office. Once he is decidedly alone Enjolras glances at the clock, which reads five in the afternoon, and for a moment he wishes that the next sixty minutes would simply pass in the blink of an eye. The truth is that he and Courfeyrac have the same destination in mind, and perhaps the same might be said for a number of their friends. '_Which makes any actual research moot tonight since discussions over coffee can't always be cited in the courtroom as evidence,' _he decides as he begins reviewing the case file once again.

He hardly notices the time going by until he hears his phone start beeping, heralding the arrival of text messages from Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Feuilly, Grantaire, Jehan, and amazingly enough even Combeferre and Musichetta, all asking if he will be at the Thenardiers' apartment that very evening. He takes a moment to read through each and every message before pressing the number '2' on his phone, which has Eponine's number on speed dial. Thankfully for once, the call doesn't go to voice mail; he's had a knack over the past few days for calling her up when she is in the middle of a tricky surgery. "Eponine, what is supposed to be happening at your place tonight?" he asks as soon as she picks up.

"It's Wednesday today, isn't it?" she replies.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Ramen night. It's a thing my siblings and I have since midweek is always busy for us."

"I see," Enjolras says, bemused once again at the odd habits of the Thenardier trio. "I take that tonight, we're all invited?"

"They invited themselves when Courfeyrac mentioned it," Eponine replies. "As for you, you already know that our table seats _at least_ four."

Enjolras can vividly imagine Eponine's smile as she says these words. He's taken to eating at the apartment whenever he gives Eponine a lift home after she works a long shift at the hospital. Most of the time he only stays for a short while, just long enough for some coffee and a light snack, but there have been a few times wherein she's asked him to stay and join her and her siblings for dinner. Two nights ago, she didn't even have to ask; she just set a fourth plate at his favourite place. "Do you want me to pass by for you in maybe, half an hour?" he asks.

She sighs deeply. "I'm sorry, but I've got to scrub in _now_. A kid just got mauled and I've got to stop a few bleeders. Save me some ramen, won't you?"

"Alright," he says even as he begins packing up his papers. "Good luck and take care."

"You too, Enjolras," she replies before hanging up. There is a knowing sort of resolve in Eponine's tone in moments like this.; she's seen pretty much every kind of injury and physical trauma both in and out of the hospital, but she is far from wearied and jaded about her work. Perhaps, Enjolras wonders, this is why Eponine is good at what she does.

As he locks up his own small office, he hears cabinets slamming and chairs being pushed across the floor, the telltale signs of his friends trying to pack things up so they can punch out at the bundy clock precisely when work hours end. As he passes by a room down the hall he notices Bahorel and Feuilly shouldering their backpacks. "Where is Bossuet?" he asks.

"With Grantaire and Jehan," Feuilly replies. "They went to get some ingredients."

Enjolras raises an eyebrow at this news. "All that for ramen?"

Bahorel stares at him like he's grown two heads. "Enjolras, ramen is never just ramen!"

"It's noodle soup you can get out of a can or a pack," Enjolras argues.

"That's non-traditional ramen," Feuilly points out. "We're going to try it slow-cooking style this time; at least that is what Azelma and Gavroche want to do."

"Very well then," Enjolras concurs. This should be interesting; Bossuet's bad luck with food bargains just may be offset by Grantaire's knack for knowing the best places to get everything edible. If all fails, there is always a reliable thing called 24-hour delivery.

All fears of having to make a late night call for food are dispelled the moment that they arrive at the fifth floor corridor leading to the Thenardiers' apartment, and the air is rich and thick with the aroma of _shoyu_ ramen broth. "How did you find time to make this from scratch?" Bahorel asks Azelma and Courfeyrac, who have taken charge of cooking the noodles while Gavroche, Bossuet, Grantaire, and Jehan are dealing with the other ingredients such as the pork meat, _nori_, vegetables, eggs, and fish cake.

"It's called planning ahead," Azelma replies. She glances over to where her boyfriend has managed to fish out one noodle to fling against the wall. "What are you doing?"

"Checking if the noodles are cooked," Courfeyrac says with a grin.

Azelma puts her hands akimbo. "Nice try. Ramen isn't cooked _al dente_ by the way."

Courfeyrac goes completely red as everyone howls with laughter but nevertheless he salvages the situation by grabbing her by the waist and kissing her amid Bahorel and Grantaire's catcalls and Gavroche's noises of disgust. Enjolras merely rolls his eyes at his friends' antics before he starts to set the table. He already knows where the Thenardiers keep the dishes and the cutlery, and which particular glasses the siblings prefer to use. He puts thirteen plastic bowls in a stack and arranges that same number of glasses around the small card table that serves as desk and dining table depending on the time of the day. '_This is what I get for not being a stranger,' _he catches himself thinking as he surveys his handiwork. It's a resolution that he's striven to make part of his new lease on life, as difficult as it may be to keep in contact with his friends during some busy weeks.

In the meantime Bossuet whistles as he just manages to avoid cutting himself while slicing up some fish cake. "Marius and Cosette will be joining us too," he informs Enjolras.

"I see," Enjolras says calmly as he retrieves two more bowls and glasses. Marius and Cosette are the two people he knows who can be more shameless about public displays of affection than Courfeyrac and Azelma. It doesn't help that when Marius and Cosette do show up a few minutes later, they are pretty much walking hand in hand, eliciting another round of catcalls but this time with Courfeyrac's voice drowning out the rest of them.

Marius is of course flustered at this greeting, but Cosette merely laughs before giving Courfeyrac a sceptical look. "You've got a girlfriend too. Why don't you hold her hand then?"

"Strike two!" Gavroche hollers as nearly everyone else erupts in another fit of laughter. "You're out the moment my sister and Musichetta get here."

"The tortures we endure from the fairer sex," Courfeyrac groans dramatically as he slumps against the kitchen counter. "At least it's all worth living in your heart, dying in your lap, and being buried in your eyes," he tells Azelma.

Jehan clucks his tongue at this mangling of a quote. "The Bard rolled in his grave."

"His bones need the exercise after all these centuries," Grantaire says as he claps the poet's back.

"Exercise? At the rate everyone misuses 'Hamlet' on a daily basis—" Jehan gripes.

"I hate that play; it has too many clichés," Bahorel chimes in.

Marius looks horrified at this. "How could you dislike it? It's a good study of the human mind..."

In a few moments the discussion turns into a debate about the misappropriation of classical literature in modern day parlance, a topic which sounds like a cross between an actual academic discussion and a raunchy comedy sketch only in this particular company. It doesn't even stop when it's time to serve up the ramen, or even when Combeferre, Joly, and Musichetta finally show up and end up flabbergasted at one of Grantaire's grosser analogies regarding Tacitus. "Marius, you should get everyone's heads examined. This flight of ideas can't be good," Musichetta declares once she hears what prompted this train of discussion to begin with.

"I'm a neurologist, not a psychiatrist," Marius points out.

"Yes, but shouldn't we rule out organic causes before going down the psychosomatic route?" Joly quips as he gets two bowls for himself and Musichetta.

"Joly, you should know this isn't something that can be cured...assuming that we even _want_ to be cured," Grantaire says gleefully.

Combeferre lets out a long suffering sigh. "Only you would be happy about such pathology."

"It's only pathology when there is too much alcohol involved," Enjolras points out.

Everyone bursts out snickering. "Too much being relative especially when there is coffee involved?" Courfeyrac asks.

Enjolras merely raises an eyebrow though he knows perfectly well what Courfeyrac is referring to. It has been a little more than a month since the last time their group of friends conspired to play a prank on him and Eponine, in hopes of having them 'resolve matters together.' The only truly ill consequence of this incident is that now he and Eponine cannot look at Irish coffee again without laughing or at least sharing a conspiratorial look. '_They'll never know what we talked about when we sobered up,' _he decides. There are some things that are just meant for him and her to keep.

The fact that there is _someone_ he can share such a private joke with is perhaps the biggest surprise of his life so far. It's why he takes it upon himself to fill a bowl full of ramen and leave it in the microwave, safe from everyone else's hunger. "Who on earth taught you how to be a good boyfriend?" Bahorel jokes when he notices this gesture.

"It's the least he can do after crashing our place for the past few weeks," Gavroche snickers.

Everyone makes 'oohs' and 'ahhs' at this revelation, and somehow Enjolras feels mortified at having this part of his life so unceremoniously revealed. It is just at that moment that the apartment door opens and Eponine steps in. Her favourite red scrubs are rumpled from a long day at work and her dark hair is a little less than smooth despite being tied back in a ponytail, but Enjolras cannot bring himself to look away from her. "How was the operation?" he asks.

She cracks a smile as she sets down her work tote. "That kid is going to live." She immediately sits at her favourite spot on the sofa, putting her feet up as she inches just a little bit closer to Enjolras. "Is the ramen any good?"

"Better than good," Enjolras says as he squeezes her shoulders. And really, he figures, it shouldn't be a problem for him if his friends comment about this, or about how he gets up from his comfortable seat just to cross the room and fetch that last bowl of ramen for her, or even about how he lets her curl up against him while she eats. '_I can do more than live with this,' _he decides even as another round of laughter ripples through the group, another sign that indeed there will be no more things such as peaceful ramen nights. 


End file.
